


Side Effects

by uglyNicc



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jack, But only a little, Daddy Kink, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, No Refractory Period, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rhys as Jack's PA, Sex Pollen, just to be safe since there's some forced arousal going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/pseuds/uglyNicc
Summary: Jack chooses not to listen when the scientists from R & D tell him not to touch the strange flora, and Rhys helps him through some unusual side effects.





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read the tags and all that stuff sounds good to you, read on and I hope you enjoy! (It took way too long to write this given the length and fact that it's just an excuse to scratch that bottom!Jack itch)

This was definitely not the direction Rhys saw his evening taking.

Jack had been gone less than a day. The CEO hadn’t divulged many details, only that, along with a heavily armed entourage of Hyperion soldiers, he would be escorting a team of Researchers to Pandora.

Before leaving, Jack had grabbed a fistful of Rhys’ shirt front and roughly pulled him in for a mashing of tongue and teeth. “Don’t get too lonely, kitten,” Jack cooed in a mockingly sweet voice, nipping at Rhys’ lower lip. “Sit pretty until Daddy gets home.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as the CEO left with one last wave over his shoulder, and pretended the crass goodbye hadn’t made his skin prickle in anticipation.

He hadn’t slacked off in his boss’ short absence; Like all Helios staff, he knew that you ceased breathing once you ceased being useful, but Rhys really was The Company Man through and through and worked as hard as he ever did. At the end of the day, he returned to the empty penthouse, ready for a relaxing night in, not sure when Jack would be back.

Stretched out on the sofa in a pair of boxers and a faded but comfortable t-shirt, Rhys flipped to one of the awful reality shows Jack hated and dug into a bowl of popcorn. All in all it'd been a good day, productive and just hectic enough to keep him on his toes.    
  
The bowl fell to the floor as, some hours later, a slamming door woke him with a start. Wiping an embarrassing amount of drool from the corner of his mouth and the sleep from his eyes, Rhys looked blearily over the back of the couch for the source of the noise.

Slumped against the wall of the entryway was Jack, head down, looking like he was fighting a losing battle with gravity. Rhys was immediately wide awake, alarm bells blaring in his ears as he scrambled off the couch.  
  
“Jack? Are you ok?” His voice came out higher than intended as kernels of popcorn crunched under his feet. There were no visible wounds or blood anywhere he could see, which was at least a little reassuring. Lifting his head at Rhys’ approach, Jack’s lips spread into a wide, sharklike grin. “Heya princess, miss me?”

Rhys laughed in nervous relief, the wave of alarm ebbing away at the sound of Jack’s voice. Still, there was something off-putting about the other man’s body language as he reached out to roughly run a thumb over Rhys’ jaw. There was no sign of the usual swagger, and Jack’s fingers felt unusually hot against his skin.

“How'd the trip go?” Rhys asked, leaning into the touch despite himself. He scrutinized the older man’s body for injury, but everything seemed normal.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Just stomped around the Highlands with some lab monkeys,” he drawled. The corners of his mouth turned downward into a frown, and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at some point behind Rhys. “I’m their goddamned boss, test-tube-sniffing nobodies think they know better than Handsome Jack.”

Squinting, Rhys plucked what looked like a seed pod off the front of Jack’s vest. Clasped between a robotic thumb and forefinger, he held it up to eye level. He wasn’t exactly a green thumb, but he didn’t recognize it as belonging to any plant he’d ever seen. Looking more closely, he saw the pods littering Jack’s hair and clothes, clinging to his outer layers like he’d been caught in a tangle of branches.

Taking a lurching step forward, Jack gave Rhys a sloppy open mouthed kiss before teetering back on his heels. Rhys reached out to catch the older man's elbow to keep him from falling backward. “You’re acting really weird, Jack. Do you want to lie down, or call a doctor up to—“

An unfocused scowl cut him off, as Jack leaned heavily against the wall again. “Relax, cupcake, god you sound like one of those idiots from R&D.” Jack’s speech was a bit slurred as the words tumbled out. “Besides, already seen one.” He held up his hand and mimicked a yammering mouth as he spoke. “ _Something-something_ new species, _yadda-yadda_ side effects, _blah-blah_ wear off soon.”

Considering that the final word on the subject, Jack propelled himself off the wall across the penthouse, bumping into an armchair on his way to the bathroom. As he lingered in the foyer, Rhys could hear the taps open and the shower running.

He walked back to the living area and scooped up the remote to click off the TV. A voice in the back of his mind nagged Rhys to call someone up, despite Jack’s insistence that he was fine. Not that he didn't trust Jack, but Rhys knew how stubborn the man was. At odds with the first voice, another scolded him for overreacting. While clearly not quite himself, Jack didn’t seem to be in any actual danger. If anything, the CEO was acting how he usually did after knocking back too many cocktails at Hyperion’s Annual Exec Gala.

Rhys decided the best he could do was keep an eye on Jack and go from there.

Poking his head into the bathroom, whatever words he’d been forming died in his throat. The room was as lavish as the rest of the penthouse, with a huge walk in shower walled in thick glass panes. The mirrors were already fogged, and Jack's clothes lay in a tangled heap on the floor. Jack stood under the spray of water, steam rising around him in the glass enclosure. He had one hand braced on the tile wall of the shower, fingers splayed and tensed, his shoulders rounded and head hanging down toward his chest. Even with his back to Rhys, it was clear by the furious movement of his other arm what the CEO was doing.

The sight itself wasn’t shocking so much as the fact that Jack hadn’t dragged Rhys into the shower with him. Before he could decide whether to leave him to it or not, the muscles in Jack’s back tightened and he let out a groan as he came, the guttural sound sending hot shivers through Rhys.

“Jack?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jack looked entirely nonplussed that he'd just rubbed one out in front of his PA. Considering Jack had struggled to walk a straight line earlier, Rhys was mildly impressed he’d been able to work the clasps to remove his mask, let alone get himself off. “What?” Jack grunted somewhat breathlessly, hand still braced against the wall.

This really was like the Annual Exec Gala, except Rhys didn’t have the pleasure of being similarly tipsy and incoherent. He huffed irritably. “What do you mean 'what?' You’ve been acting weird since you got back.”

The taps creaked and the spray of water stopped. Jack turned his body to Rhys, his face and neck flushed, lips parted as he palmed his wet skin, still fully hard. “Sweet cheeks,” Jack groaned, voice thick. “Do I look like I wanna talk right now?”

Rhys gapped as the CEO continued to stroke himself. “Just riding out some -  _hnnng_  - some side effects,” he broke off in a pleased sigh, wrapping his fingers around the base and pumping himself in earnest. Rhys felt heat pool in his groin, unable to look away.

“Side effects? Of what?“

Jack shot him a scowl. “Look Rhysie, it’s cute you’re enjoying the show and all, but either get your dumb ass over here or get out.”

Tempted to leave Jack and his rude invitation hanging, curiosity and desire won out. Whetting his lips, Rhys padded barefoot over the cool tile floor. Careful not to slip, he stepped into the shower, acutely aware of Jack's eyes trained on his every move. Rhys could feel the heat coming off Jack’s body, his skin almost feverish to the touch. 

Rhys leaned in, kissing a line up Jack’s neck as he thumbed the wet tip of the older man's cock. Jack’s breath hitched as he dropped his hand, letting Rhys take over. “That’s it,” he groaned as Rhys' flesh fingers encircled him. He pressed his broad shoulders against the tile wall of the shower, hips haphazardly meeting Rhys’ strokes. He threw his head back, damp strands falling over his eyes while Rhys sucked on the taught lines of his throat. “Take care of Daddy.”

Rhys bit his lip, his own cock stirring in his boxers, quickening his pace and pumping his hand faster. He wasn't sure what side effects Jack meant, and the recounting of the trip to Pandora was too vague to come to any conclusions. He took Jack's earlobe between his teeth, making the older man shudder. He'd have to get the whole story later. Whatever had happened, Rhys thought, Jack's body was abnormally sensitive, every light touch drawing out a reaction. Seeing Jack as anything other than wholly in control was new, and Rhys felt a guilty pang in his gut while arousal pooled in his groin.

With a low moan, Jack came in weak spurts over his fingers, his breaths ragged and knees shaking as Rhys slowed his strokes, milking the older man's finish. 

For the second time that evening, Rhys’ arms shot out to keep Jack from hitting the floor as he wobbled on his feet. Easing the CEO down, Rhys backed out of the shower and washed his hands in the sink. He kept a watchful eye on Jack, who sat slumped against the wall, eyes closed and chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Returning with a fresh towel, Rhys dried Jack off as best be could, leaving his hair even more disheveled. Wrapping the towel around Jack’s shoulders, Rhys ducked under one of his arms and helped his boss up off the floor. Jack was absolutely no help. Once on his feet, he leaned heavily on Rhys, large hands pawing at him like a particularly attention-starved feline.

“C’mon, Jack,” Rhys groaned in frustration as he attempted to steer him to the bed. Even drunk, Jack was more co-operative than this. “What’re you-“

He broke off in a moan as Jack clumsily palmed him through the thin boxers. Looking down, Rhys was shocked to see Jack at full attention again, his erection red and swollen like he hadn’t just gotten off twice in quick succession.

The towel slipped off Jack’s shoulders as the CEO rutted against Rhys, exhaling hot breaths against the tattoos on his neck. Fighting against his own arousal, Rhys marched Jack to the bed and sat the older man down. “C’mon Jack. What's going on,” he demanded. “What exactly happened on Pandora to make you…like this.”

Jack wasn't listening, his fingers hooked in the waistband of Rhys' boxers. When Rhys swatted his hands away and repeated his question, Jack reached between his own legs until Rhys grabbed his wrist to stop him. Thwarted in his attempts to touch Rhys or himself, Jack glowered up at the younger man.

“Rhysie, sugar, stop being such a priss,” He wheedled, his toes curling in the carpet and his hips gently rocking to an unheard rhythm.

“I'm not being a priss," Rhys retorted, patience wearing thin. "Just tell me what happened."

Jack let out a pained groan of frustration. “Fine! Y’know for someone who usually can’t get enough of this dick, you’re being a pretty big boner killer here, sweetheart.” Rhys’ eyes narrowed as he glanced down. “Looks fine to me,” He shot back dryly.

"Hardy- _fricken_ -har," Jack laughed humourlessly. “Ok, ok. So the day trip to Pandora?” he grit out, the muscles in his legs twitching as he struggled to sit still. “The Lab monkeys found some new plant, and turns out it's seeds are ten times more potent than the the rocks used to make Engorge.”

Rhys stared dumbly. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been that. “Why are they even researching that?”

Jack snorted, his free hand absentmindedly palming over his abdomen and chest like a nervous tick as he continued. “You have any idea of the profit margins on those pills? Even with them causing the odd boil or two,” Jack answered, as if this was sufficient explanation. “Only…only…thing is,” Jack gasped, losing his train of thought as his hand brushed over a nipple.

Rhys watched, transfixed, face growing hot, as Jack let out a pleasured sigh, his calloused fingers teasing the hardening bud. He grabbed Jack’s other wrist to remove the distraction, which earned him a growled curse. Jack swallowed, trying to refocus. “Thing is, I wanted to get a closer look at this money tree and — they told me not to touch it, but to hell with them and —“

He didn’t have to finish. Rhys wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or to laugh. Of all the people he knew, Jack was the last person who needed to mess around with some sex-drug plant. If anything, it would make his job a lot easier if Jack could be less handsy around the office. Not that Rhys really had any complaints over mixing business with pleasure every now and then, but still…

“So you just need to, what? Keep getting off until this wears out?” Rhys asked incredulously.

Jack was the only person who could look intimidating while at the mercy of a powerful, artificial arousal. “Why is this concept so hard to grasp, cupcake? You’re gonna be sleeping in the damned hallway if you wanna be a smart ass.”

Rhys dropped Jack’s hands. As if magnetically charged, they were immediately glued back to his own body. Sounds of mixed relief and need trickled past Jack's lips as he touched himself, fingers trailing over his flushed chest, a thumb dragging through the pre gathering at the tip of his erection, as if the short minutes without contact had been agonizingly long hours. 

He looked up at Rhys, gaze hot as he licked his lips. "So what's it gonna be?"  
  
Although his body was obviously at the mercy of whatever toxins or chemicals the weird-sex-plant had spat at him, it didn't seem to be affecting Jack's mind or comprehension. The whole situation was bizarre, and Rhys wouldn't have beleived it if he wasn't face to face with an incredibly turned on Jack. 

"Just tell me to stop if -"  
  
Jack shot him a murderous look while his hips jerked involuntarily off the bed in anticipation. "Just hurry the hell up already!" he interrupted.   
  
Rhys dropped to his knees between Jack’s thighs, looking up through his lashes as Jack impatiently pumped himself. “‘Bout goddamned time, pumpkin,” he huffed, groaning as Rhys leaned in close, breath ghosting over his inner thighs.

Pressing the flat of his tongue to the velvety underside of Jack’s shaft, Rhys licked a wet trail up, lapping and swirling over the head teasingly. The sound Jack let out was absolutely sinful. Their movements were uncoordinated and messy as Jack stroked himself into Rhys mouth while Rhys sucked and licked as much as Jack’s relentless hand allowed. 

Eyebrows furrowed and teeth grit, Jack’s face was tense with concentration, hand pumping furiously over the skin not wrapped in the wet heat of Rhys’ mouth. Rhys bobbed his head eagerly, lips bumping against Jack’s knuckles as they both worked his cock.

Without warning, Jack dropped his hand and thrust deep into the younger man's mouth. Wetness formed at the corner of Rhys' eyes as he just barely suppressed his gag reflex. Normally he would pull away and snap at Jack for his impatience. He let it slide under the circumstances, recovering and relaxing his throat. Jack wasn’t able to hold in the low sounds of pleasure rumbling from his chest as he urged Rhys on. Jack was always a talker during sex, but it was usually controlled and composed, filthy things whispered in Rhys' ear as they both came undone. Hearing the pleasured moans and pleas spilling from Jack's mouth fuelled Rhys' arousal to dizzying new heights. 

“Fuck,” Jack panted, large hands fisted in the sheets, pressing up as Rhys swallowed him down to the hilt, coarse curls tickling his nose. The smell of soap mingled with the unmistakable scent that was all Jack filled his nose as Rhys breathed in.

He’d lost himself in his rhythm and was confused when Jack’s hands suddenly urged him to stop. Pulling off with a wet pop, Rhys wiped at his mouth, concerned something was wrong.

Jack lay back against the sheets, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed with feet planted on the floor, his chest heaving as his breath huffed out in shallow gasps. “Not..not enough…” he muttered feverishly, more to himself than to Rhys. Rhys watched, mouth going dry as Jack's hand travelled down this torso, snaking between his legs to press his fingers between his cheeks.

His eyes darted to Jack’s face, meeting green and blue clouded with lust. Jack’s lips spread into a weak grin, a shadow of his usual lecherous smirk. “It’s your lucky day, kiddo,” he teased breathlessly, legs opening wider. “Daddy’s got a favour to ask.”

Rhys nodded and fumbled with the bedside drawer, failing miserably in concealing his eagerness, not that Jack was in any position to make fun of him. He fished out the lube and closed the drawer harder than he needed to in his haste. While Rhys pulled off his shirt and kicked his boxers aside, Jack pawed at the sheets and body restlessly.

“What’s taking so long,” Jack growled. Rhys shot him a look and squeezed out a generous dollop onto his fingers. As impatient as Jack was, Rhys was still very much aware that no matter how hot and bothered the toxins were making him, they would soon fade, while any pain Rhys caused would linger. 

Fingers slick with lube, Rhys gently circled the tight pucker. Jack squirmed into the contact impatiently. Pressing down on Jack’s hip with his robotic hand to keep the other man still, Rhys slipped his first digit past the tight ring of muscle. He held back a moan as his finger sunk in to the knuckle, trying not to get ahead of himself thinking how good that was going to feel around him.  
  
Every minute movement of his finger made Jack writhe and gasp as Rhys worked in another, his resolve to take his time breaking slightly as the noises the CEO was making shot straight to his groin. Jack attacked his patience further, shooting the younger man a dark look. “Chrissakes, Rhys, stop pussyfooting around and just fricken do it already,” he growled, the threatening tone considerably lessened as he all but fucked himself on Rhys’ fingers. 

Painfully hard now, Rhys didn’t need further convincing. Jack shuffled back toward the headboard and the mattress dipped as Rhys crawled between Jack’s splayed legs. Slicking lube over his length, he lined himself up, and pressed forward without further preamble. Jack groaned long and low as Rhys slowly inched deeper. He fixed his mismatched eyes on Jack’s face, determined to commit it to memory. The president of Hyperion, his boss, looked utterly debauched beneath him, the skin untouched by the vault scar flushed pink, lips parted and eyes dark with want. It took every ounce of willpower for Rhys not to come then and there.

He let out a shaky breath, not realizing he’d been holding it in until his skin pressed flush against Jack’s ass. Jack was still feverishly hot, almost uncomfortably so as his inner walls spasmed around the intrusion. Rhys gasped as Jack gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and pulled their bodies closer, grinding against Rhys wantonly as thin ribbons of come fell against his abdomen.

Rhys swore loudly, his vision swimming as pleasure coursed through him. It was a miracle he held on, his body shaking as he felt Jack’s muscles spasm around him.

“Jack…did you just—“

Mismatched eyes glared up at him, though there was little malice in the look as Jack breathed hard, hips grinding in small circles as he rode out his orgasm. “It’s the plant,” he shot back defensively, fingers still digging into Rhys’ skin. “You’re not _that_ good, cupcake,” he taunted.

Trust Jack to insult someone balls deep inside him, Rhys thought ruefully. “You want me to keep going?”

Jack’s answer was clear as his fingers dug in painfully in attempts to get Rhys moving. “You damn well better,” he groaned, his head lolling to the side.

Rhys dropped to his elbows, head lowered to bite down on the juncture of neck and shoulder, wrenching a surprised cry from Jack’s throat, his body bucking up against him. Rhys pulled back slowly, rising above Jack as he rocked his hips forward in tentative, shallow thrusts. Jack’s body clenched around him hungrily with each movement.

“God, yes, kiddo, that’s — that’s it,” Jack gasped as Rhys quickened his pace and put more force behind his thrusts. “Ke-keep doing that,” he stammered, finally releasing his vicelike grip on Rhys’ hips to drag blunt nails over the smooth expanse of the company man’s back. Jack’s fingers burned across his skin and Rhys hammered into him harder. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead and strands of hair fell into his face, but he didn’t relent, chasing both his own pleasure and the ecstasy he saw washing over Jack’s face.

He wanted this to last, wanted to savour how Jack looked in these moments, his control dissolved, his usual barriers dropped and forgotten. Jack was open, unmasked and unrestrained, caring about nothing else but what Rhys was doing to him, and utterly unconcerned showing how much he wanted it. His body writhed under him, voice breaking in a strangled cry as Rhys angled his thrusts to hit that sweet spot inside him, all but begging Rhys to keep going.

Rhys’ chest swelled and ached in a way he wasn’t ready to put into words, and words were not what either of them needed right now.

Eyes locked with Jack’s, Rhys felt his finish creeping through his body, like the lick of electricity coursing through his veins, his thrusts uneven and frantic as it overtook him. The loud slap of skin reached a fever pitch as Jack’s hand reached between their bodies to where his length bobbed against his stomach.

Jack came dry with a long, drawn out howl, head thrown back as his back arched off the bed. Gasping at the sudden constriction, Rhys’ hips stuttered forward as he came in hot spurts, cock twitching as he emptied into Jack. Everything blinked out of existence and there was only pleasure and the warm ache and shudder of their bodies.

Blinking as the world slowly faded back into focus, the room felt unusually quiet, their laboured breaths impossibly loud in Rhys’ ears. He looked down at Jack, who was finally still, an unguarded look of contentment on his face as he lay boneless against the sheets. Before the calm could be broken and Jack inevitably slammed up his usual defences, Rhys leaned down for a soft, slow kiss, savouring the lazy press of Jack’s lips against his.

As expected, Jack was quick to interrupt the quiet calm as a chuckle rose in his throat. “I dunno about you, kiddo,” he laughed, voice somewhat hoarse. “But I’d say that was a pretty successful clinical trial.”

Exhausted as he was, Rhys couldn’t help laughing back. “Yeah, Hyperion’ll definitely give the guys at Engorge a run for their money with this one,” he answered weakly, wincing slightly as his he withdrew his softening length.

Jack hummed in agreement as Rhys rolled off him, collapsing into the mattress beside him. “Told those assholes I knew what I was doing,” he continued smugly, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he let loose a drawn out yawn. Rhys was too tired to argue that things could have turned out a lot worse, and that maybe next time Jack should actually listen when someone told him not to touch something.

Rhys closed his eyes, his body heavy with fatigue. "You're ok now though?" He mumbled, clinging to consciousness as sleep tugged at his senses. 

He felt Jack’s eyes on him, and calloused fingers brushed against his cheek.  
  
"Yeah, pumpkin. I'm good."


End file.
